among vegetable
i enter the market,
happy as a young wife,
discovering villages and orchards,
gardens and forests,
shallow marshes, the sago valleys
all transported bu the dawn gardener,
with all the fragrance and sap of earth.
the market is leafy bush,
its leaves are the dew of life,
the mist is still - clutching to its veins.
at the head of the junction aunt inai
in her blouse, as black as noon,
is queen over her cabbage subjects.
round, shadowy green, white as coconut milk,
its leaves are brittle on the teeth of my memory.
grandma runduk tatau wers a head - band,
her dress as old as herself,
she smile with her eyes,
swallowing her sweet betel mis
she arranges the ferns,
taken form the hill behind her hut.
as an attentive carver
she has few words
only the ferns sell themselves
with their salad delicacy and colour.
the kerdas' skin is brown and smooth,
a jering is split and put out in the sun,
on a tall heap,
and the petai, as large as gamelan cymbals,
is arranged on a thick green board - all these i mix into a salad in my memory's appetite
as my ancestors in the forest,
thirty thousand years ago.
and this is the ginger, softly yellow
curved as a baby in the cold,
its fine roots hoarding its mud,
its pungent fragrance creeping
all along the market lane.
the sweet potato, copper red,
gathered in its basket world, are surrendered
to the morning sun, i make cakes form their tubers,
cucur badak with shrimps,
cucur keria with holes,
vegetable in coconut soup, the kedah sweetmeat
and i cook it, deep fried.
beside it is the purple yam,
fat in the marshes, under the skies and clouds,
water refines its deep texture,
clears it from its poison,
light green, cut and bundled.
and all the shoots along the markets,
tubers, the cashews, mengkudu are full bodied over the leaves
yam - if i go to heaven,
this would be my diet,
at a great banquet,
and i shall never be full.
and here sits a gentleman from sarawak,
with gold teeth and proud ears,
his face is calm and awashed with smiles,
he sells the scarlet jerangau,
as crimson as the centipede,
uprooted from his village's swamp,
its roots are for diabetes,
and antidote for alcohol.
that is nature's market,
for nature is transported here.
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